


to make you feel (i would kill)

by disarmed



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bloodplay, Dark!Rey, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, no beta we die like men, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmed/pseuds/disarmed
Summary: “That’s where you’re wrong, Rey." He gestured at her person, skin gleaming with sweat, her neck bleeding and bruised. "I did love you, but I hate whoever this is.”“You hate me?” she mused, as the opacity of her began to fade into the shadows. “That sounds like the beginning of a love story, Ben, not the end of one."
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	to make you feel (i would kill)

**Author's Note:**

> title from amanda palmer's 'not the killing type.' gratuitous use of the vampire diaries' brilliant "that sounds like the beginning of a love story, not the end of one," line, said by the infamous katherine pierce.

Ben was doing his very best to ignore the woman at the end of his bed. It had been ten minutes, so far, and he had accomplished the near impossible of not even acknowledging her with a glance. He had been on the cusp of sleep when she had appeared; his limbs becoming heavy and his eyelids drooping.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she observed idly, as if he were a willing participant in her conversation.

There was nothing in his place. He hadn’t cleaned in a month and he didn't buy anything, anymore, and he didn't bother going anywhere he might need new clothes for. He had given away most of his mother’s belongings; the droids had stayed with the Resistance. 

"Ben." 

She wasn’t even trying to hide the mockery in her voice.

With his eyes still closed, he continued to ignore her. 

He felt the bed shift as she moved. 

_Here we go._

Rey crawled up the length of his bed and laid down beside him. He could smell her; the sharp scent of smoke and sulfur, that often came when she skipped through the galaxy to be with him, with a barely perceptible sweetness buried below. Her slight weight made the mattress dip to his left, and he felt her press close enough against him as she turned on her side, that her breasts brushed the bare skin of his arm.

She sounded exasperated when she next spoke.

"Just give in already."

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of opening his eyes. 

"Give in? To what, exactly?”

"Me, your own desire.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “It isn't that hard to figure it out."

He couldn’t help the sneer that marred his face, as he gestured vaguely into the air in front of them. 

“Leave.” 

"Is that any way to speak to a lady?" She trailed a slender finger over his hand. He didn’t flinch, much to his credit. 

"You don't fall under the category of lady, anymore,” he told her dryly, finally opening his eyes to look at her. 

He wished almost immediately that he hadn’t. She was still Rey, of course; that wasn’t what the Dark side did to you, but her warm golden skin had been replaced by a sallow pallor, and her irises were red rimmed and flecked with yellow. The eternal Sith whose decrypt fingers held tightly to her soul were manifesting, slowly, in her physicality. 

His frown was genuine, and so was his heart break. “Your tendencies lean more towards self-serving psychopaths, at this current time." 

It was obvious she was losing this round, and so it was no surprise when she tried a different tactic with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm not asking you to commit yourself to me—"

"Oh,” laughed Ben, brokenly. “You would if you could."

"I just want it once." One of her bare, long legs pressed close to his, rubbing gently atop the sheets. "Don't you?" She paused, lips quirking into a smile. "It's been a long time Ben, for both of us." 

It hadn't been; she came to him in the dead hours of the night like this at least once a week.

She slid in closer until she was half atop him, her hand trailing down his abdomen. "We are amazing together; like young Gods."

He could feel his resolve weakening, just from the way she spoke and the way she was pressed up against him. He shut his eyes.

"Rey—"

"It's just us, Ben," her voice was harder now, imploring. "They’re dead; your father and your mother and your uncle. What remains of the Resistance is a futile, hopeless thing.” She pet his chest, her cool fingers tugging the sheet down to expose his abdomen. “There is no one left to deny us.” 

She pressed a kiss, feather light, to his ribcage and murmured curiously, “What’s stopping you?”

In a flash of movement Ben was atop her, legs pinning down her hips and his hands circling her wrists. The sheets, twisted between them, only worked in his favor to keep her from escaping. 

"What's stopping me is _you_.” He wanted to shake her as she laid beneath him, eyes wide and lips parted, as if she didn’t understand _why_ he missed the warmth of her touch or the brightness of her smile. “This _isn’t_ the Rey that I loved.” 

He could feel the ache in chest burst anew, as it did every time she came to see him and they played this game; every time he would look upon her and see a little less of the spark that once ignited her very being. 

Whether she ignored the pain in his voice or chose to ignore it, he couldn’t be sure. 

She canted her hips up, eyes sultry as she rubbed against him. "I really think it is."

A better man would have continued to resist her. A more studious man would have found a way to close the force bond that kept them connected, even after his resurrection. It had been an idle dream, the one he had carried from his return from the World Beyond Worlds, of their reunion; that how they felt might surpass time and space itself. It had been futile, he had come to realize, when he had tracked down what was left of the Resistance, only to find that in her own grief and loneliness, Rey had been seduced by the false promises of the Dark side to bring him back. 

(“We did everything we could,” a battle-worn and weary Poe Dameron had told him. The man sported a scar across his jaw and more grey hair than Ben could remember. “She was lost, without you.”)

In the here and now, Rey shrugged beneath him. ”I suppose it isn’t important. What is, is that I'm here, and I _want_ you." 

Another shift of her hips brought a devious smile to her face, and Ben had to blink because for a moment her teeth looked too sharp. _Sith tricks,_ he told himself, _she wants a rise out of you_. 

"I know you want me." She leaned up, placing a kiss at his jaw. 

A stronger man would have said, _no_. Rey placed feather light kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and then, lightning quick, she found the juncture between his neck and his shoulder and bit down hard _._

Flinching back, Ben scowled as blood dripped down his chest and onto his sheets. 

_Not_ what he was expecting. 

Now, anger fueled the tumultuous grief and bitterness that he carried within him, and then - before he could even really comprehend it himself—he was kissing her. 

Suddenly, everything was teeth and tongue and fast and hard. Rey's hands were on his shoulders, her fingernails scraping down his arms. Ben, clumsily and with little finesse, kicked the sheets off as best he could, from where they had become tangled between them. Rey was doing little to help, chasing her own pleasure and feeding off his broken acceptance by grinding her hips up into his. 

He was hot and hard, and, as Rey shoved his sleeping pants down his hips; deliciously naked. She showed her approval by hooking a leg around his hip, the black material of her long dress bunching beneath her. He was panting, both from exertion and excitement, rutting against the juncture of her thighs as she squirmed, pulling at the sleeves of her dress to bare her breasts to him. 

Ben dragged his teeth down her chest, lips circling a nipple before tugging it with his teeth. Rey’s groan was throaty and loud, and Ben had no desire to silence her. Her fingers card fingers carded through his hair, pulling and stroking alternatively, and wildly, Ben thought that perhaps she was conditioning him to enjoy the pain. It didn’t stop him from his ministrations, his hands trailing down the sides of her lithe body, in through her waist and out over the flare of her hips.

Silently, she lifted her hips enough for him to pull her dress down the length of her body and drop it to the floor. 

His palms lingered over her thighs for a moment, fingertips making circles on the skin, before dragging one hand up her slit. 

“Yes,” she murmured encouragingly, leaning back on his pillows and spreading her legs further for him. 

Her slight mew fueled him, and he brought his hand up—pads of his fingers slightly wet—to trace them across her bottom lip. Rey smiled, sharp and pleased; her tongue darting out to taste herself on his fingers, eyes alight. She rolled her hips upward as a reward, allowing the hot, firm length of him to nestle against her cunt.

Ben knew his smile wasn’t particularly nice as he lowered his hand to the apex of her thighs. 

Writhing beneath him, he held her hips down, his left hand spread across her abdomen, before thrusting two fingers into her. 

It was rough and hard, and he knew it hurt her, from the simple logic of how large his fingers were and the little prep work she had received, but also from her wince and the sharp intake of breath she took. Her hands clamped down on his shoulders once more as he twisted his wrist, imitating the rhythm of sex. 

Rey was like a wildcat beneath him, and for a brief moment he allowed himself the all-too common fantasy of, _this is what it might have been like_.

They had never had sex; not before his fall and her descent into darkness, but when she was alive and writhing like this beneath him, he could imagine that it might have been like this, had they had a chance. Their kisses would have been softer, their touches kinder; perhaps he would have told her how he loved her while she came apart beneath him. He imagined she would say his name, soft and breathless and beautiful, his real name, _Ben_ , until he followed her over the edge. 

The thought saddened him, as it always did, but Ben was too desperate and weak to let her go. He swiped his thumb across her clit and she gasped and pulled his head down, her lips meeting his in a hard, loveless kiss. She was almost there, almost on the brink, so Ben did the best thing he could think of, and removed his fingers.

The look on her face was priceless; beauty and brutality all wrapped into one. 

“What—”

Ben barked out a laugh and gripped her thighs, cutting off her indignities as he slotted himself into the space between her legs. She was placated, momentarily, when Ben leaned down to kiss her neck. Then, in a mockery of her earlier behavior, he bit down hard into the delicate skin there, and thrust himself up inside her. 

She made a high, keening sound that Ben knew was a result of the strangely appealing pleasure/pain combination they’d come to accept. It was familiar to them both, now, considering how long they’d been doing this. 

_Too long_ , he admitted to himself. He had assumed he’d be able to aid her return to the Light; that it would be quicker and less painful. He had come to realize the transition was never going to be easy, and it was going to take time. 

In the interim, Ben thought that if he could make her feel _something_ , it would be better than feeling _nothing_. 

He kept his teeth on her skin, even though the angle was awkward, just to remind her that they could _both_ hurt each other. When she tried to pull away, he bit down harder, until her skin split and iron tasted sharp and tangy on his tongue. She cried out, briefly, and Ben automatically pulled off, checking her face in concern. 

She glared up at him, teeth bared, and slapped him, _hard_ , across the face.

His head jerked to the side from the force, and he moved his jaw slowly to ease the pain. The resulting stupor the action left him in however, allowed her a moment to catch him off guard, shifting her weight and rolling them over until she was seated atop him. 

Rey cocked her head, blood dripping down onto her breast from the wound he had left in her neck.

"You know I like to be in charge," she told him sweetly.

She rose up, muscles moving in her thighs, then back down, and Ben glanced down to watch with a dull satisfaction at the length of him disappearing into her body. Rey smirked, hands braced against his chest as she sprawled out across his body, their blood and sweat mingling between them, their hips gyrating slowly. 

"I bet you've missed this," she said snidely, even as she rode him. “Is this all you’ve had, _Ben?”_

His name was a bitter, wicked thing on her tongue; a stark contrast from the time when she had held his face in Exegol, and whispered it with a smile that warmed his dying body. 

Yes, this was all he had; the phantom ghost of the woman he once loved. 

He shoved her off him, forcing her to lie on her back once more. She fought it, unsurprisingly, resorting to using the Force when she realised he wasn’t going to let up. Ben reveled in the struggle, even as she twisted and turned and spat curses beneath him. 

It was with a sadistic sort of pleasure he groped a breast roughly in his hand, palming it and pinching at the nipple. Her fight became even incensed, and she threw her hips up in an attempt to get him off. 

“Is this how low you’ve come?” she asked with a sneer. “To force yourself on me? How desperate _are_ you? What would your _mother_ say?” 

It was nothing but an attempt to rile him; to make him _hurt_. 

Ben knew that, even though the words shred his heart like broken glass. They’d played this game too many times, he had assumed he would be better than her. At least he had been, the first, and the second time. He’d even resisted the third and the fourth times she had come to him, whispering her promises of power and love and _togetherness_. He had held her at arm’s length, told her ‘no’ and done his best to ignore the hushed, filthy desires she whispered into his ear while he slept. 

But Ben had never been a great man, and he had always been weak, where it counted. 

Where she counted.

Her lips were pursed and her face contorted into a hateful, sour scowl as Ben spread her legs and pushed his cock into her again, ignoring the stream of vicious, spiteful words that spewed from her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands gripping his forearms as he slammed into her, rougher and faster than before.

He was close, extremely so, but he could tell by the rhythm of her hips that she wasn’t quite there. _Perfect._ Letting himself be as rough as he wanted, he pounded into her body so hard she was gasping, hands grasping his neck for purchase and forcing him to look at her.

He wanted to destroy something and he was too afraid to set an actual fire, so this was the closest he ever came.

"You're sick," she spat out in between her gasps.

Ben almost managed a grin as he panted down at her.

“You’ve taught me well, haven’t you?" 

It was that expression; shock and confusion mingling on her face that has him coming. He groaned, spilling himself inside her, and pumping lazily two or so times before pulling out. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling as an empty, shallow sort of satedness ebbed through him

"How _dare_ you?"

He glanced over to where Rey was laying, legs still spread and chest still splattered with flecks of blood; her face turned to him in pure incredulity. 

Ben gave her a nonchalant, bored glance before looking pointedly into the ether. "You can leave, now."

" _What?_ " Her voice was like ice.

He shifted, yanking up the sheets to cover himself up to his waist. "I said, you can leave, now."

"I'm not _finished_ \--"

"Yeah?" Ben looked across at her with cold disinterest. "Well, I am." 

He waited for the possible breaking of some limbs, a punch to his jaw, perhaps, but he was suspiciously surprised when she did nothing of the sort. She only stared at him, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up.

Ben leaned down over the bed and picked up her dress. "Don't forget this."

She turned, taking the garment from him and surveying him with narrowed eyes. “I’ll stop trying.” She looked at him expectantly as she slipped into her dress. “Eventually, if you keep denying me, I won’t return. You’ll look for me in every woman you come across.” 

They both knew he already did, and that no one ever compared. 

“You love me,” she told him evenly. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Rey." He gestured at her person, skin gleaming with sweat, her neck bleeding and bruised. "I did love you, but I hate whoever this is.” 

“You hate me?” she mused, as the opacity of her began to fade into the shadows. “That sounds like the beginning of a love story, Ben, not the end of one."

As she disappeared from view, Ben laid back in his blood stained sheets and tried not to think about how much that sounded like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me over on twitter: @disarmed_


End file.
